I'm off. Friday night concludes my stay in Omaha this summer. My mother and I are driving down to Atlanta this Saturday morning in what is now my car, the black Camry. The drive should take about twenty hours. I had an amazing time at home over the last two months laughing and smiling with all the faces I grew up with. As far as I know, the next time I'll be back will be Thanksgiving. If you want to see me before then, come get me. I'll miss the incredible frisbee games played on Westside's football field, joyriding around Omaha's wonderful grid-fitted streets, living less than five minutes away from Jeff, Jeff and Erik, and having the pleasure of interacting with all of the kind, unassuming people that live here. I will continue to dedicate myself to not only maintaining the spirit flourishing in my Omaha relationships, but to pursue their development in new and meaningful ways. Living in my own place in Atlanta will allow me plenty of time to resume my letter writing project, which I hope will soon help people realize, within the realm of human relations, getting to know the handwriting of another is significant. It is one of the best ways to share all that goes unshared. You have the ability to live your entire life within a single letter. I think another layer of importance is added to the project once it is realized that Omaha people should be communicating to other Omaha people this intensely. We have to stick together, because Omaha is going to be big. Our voice of wholesome jubilance will sustain the aggressive "vast carelessness" of the spawn of New York East Eggers and the sun-tanned stoner stories from Cali's material Marissas. We also have to play like a team of champions and man-up against the competition. We already have good men and women posted all over the country waiting for the day their new homes can exist within the exceptional flow of love that Omaha facilitates. Erik has taken care of Iowa and Sissonface is moving things around in New York. I'm doing my best to turn heads in the south. People have been responding to the letters like they are staring into snow globes, they don't know that what is inside is real, yet. After spending time with so many of you, sharing stories and living well, I am prepared to throw myself out there one more time. While I'm doing that, close your eyes, grab a buddy, go somewhere new and talk to someone about kindness. Kindness is the most sophisticated form of intelligence.
It's time for me to once again praise the godlike talent of one of my favorite baseball players, Ichiro Suzuki. After spurring his homeland team to win the first ever World Baseball Classic, Suzuki has continued his performance in the American major leagues as one of the greatest to ever play the game. He already holds the single season record for most base hits with 262, which he set in 2004, breaking an 84 year old record. After playing the first third of this season, Suzuki leads the majors in hits by more than 15 despite incredible offensive performances from a number of players around the league. He reached the 100 hit mark in only the 64th game of the 162 game season, which puts him on a pace to make a run at his own hit record. During his current 11 game hitting streak, Suzuki has collected an unthinkable 29 hits, posting multiple hit games in all but one of the last 11. He's an incredible asset to his team as the only player in the majors to play in all 64 games. He ranks in the top five in batting average (.367), runs scored (51), and stolen bases (20). Suzuki is also a miraculous defensive force. He has one of the most accurate throwing arms in baseball and is on pace to win his sixth straight gold glove, coming into today's game without committing a single error. The reason I feel Suzuki's performance is necessary discussion, apart from the incredible accomplishments I have just outlined, is because he doesn't get a lot of press. The sports world makes sure to include Barry Bonds in every Giants highlight, though he has about a third as many hits as Suzuki and has played in about two thirds as many games, because it is important to document a hall of fame player as much as possible. They are rare and their legacy is important. Perhaps because Suzuki is a Japanese man playing in what is largely thought of as an American sport, his legacy is meant to be hidden somewhere in the dugout, though the scoreboard is clearly keeping track. What Suzuki is doing is phenomenal. He has already shattered the record for a player with the most base hits during his first five seasons in the majors. He will continue to break records, records I believe will never be broken. Is Barry Bonds' quest toward Hank Aaron's 755 home runs really that special when both Alex Rodriguez and Albert Pujols are on pace to break whatever milestone Bonds might reach? Baseball is used to seeing home run hitters ever since Roger Maris. Suzuki is a one of a kind wonder. With his seven different batting styles, he has no weakness to exploit and cannot be forced to submit to any defensive shift. He only hit 15 home runs last year, yet he is so feared as a hitter he led the American league in intentional walks. He is simply so much better than the people he is playing with that it is hard not to be inspired.
Outside of sports, I am reluctant to share that I have become enraptured by yet another provocative television series from one of the mature content harboring subscription television networks. Lately I've been watching at least two episodes a day of Showtime's The L Word. The show involves the super crazy drama of a group of lesbian friends living in West Hollywood. At first I thought the show was boring pretentious crap. One of the main characters is an adorable-eyed struggling writer played by Mia Kirshner. I think almost all of her ideas are cliche garbage that make writers look like worthless contributors to the world of art. But then again, all of her stories are rejected so at least I can enjoy her being punished for badly representing my people. The character Shane, however, is cooler and sexier than Seth Cohen. She goes through more vagina than Austin Powers on a full tank of mojo. She makes the show pretty awesome even though they added a terrible intro and themesong in the second season. It is written very efficiently and none of the lesbians are bull-dykes.
I don't know what it is with me and title tracks lately but after listening to The Racontuers debut album I think Broken Boy Solider is a pretty damn sweet song. The cd offers a diverse sound of songs that seem to perfectly fit into the categories they were created for, like the slow broken heart lullaby of "Together" or the herky jerk circus ride of "Store Bought Bones." I enjoy listening to the whole thing, but when Jack White shrills the word 'CHILD' in Broken Boy Soldier I'm fully engaged.
I've just recently become aware of the meaning behind the phrase "blinded by the light." I think the idea behind this phrase represents a significant problem with the way people approach the world and I can pinpoint the areas where I have turned a blind eye. The idea is whenever someone sustains a lifestyle change or undergoes a mindful conversion, as a result of some negative experience, they completely cut ties with their old way of living. They feel enlightened having discovered that their old idea of truth turned out to be untrue. It's a traumatic experience, and part of the force that compels the conversion mutates the enlightened into an extremist for the other end of the spectrum. Their previous idea of truth didn't work for them, and the only way to relate their experience is to universalize it to others. They believe this truth cannot work for anyone else. This happens all the time with religion, drugs, politics, love, or anything that involves a great deal of emotion.
Personally, I know my digestive system has been blinded by the light of Chipotle. During school I ate there a lot because that is the only place anyone wanted to go, but now I am home and can drive myself to nourish on Taco Bell's ninety nine cent menu. My last four or five meals at TBell have produced painful, splattery bowels. I wish I could enjoy my favorite samples from each of these competing Mexican cuisines, but my body isn't giving me that choice.
I think the solution to this problem is to become self aware of some of your most partial actions, judgments, and observations. A better alternative might be to approach the outside world as a forum of opportunity that invites you to make fluid decisions. Do your best to take the prejudice-free action most fitting for every particular situation. I am talking to myself.
In music news, the lead singer of my favorite band, Radiohead, Thom Yorke has a solo album coming out next month. I really love the hook on the title track: The Eraser.
